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About Me

I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations.
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Friday, March 15, 2013

I am delighted that it is finally Friday because this past week has been
a struggle, both physically and emotionally. With my leg finally
healing and after being cleared yesterday for limited prosthetic use,
I'm looking forward to the weekend!

I rarely have plans that do
not revolve around my family or work, but this weekend is a rare
exception. On Sunday I'm going to get to see my friend Tammy whom I
haven't seen in over two years. Not only were Tammy and I roommates in
college (just a few years ago) but we also shared an apartment for a few
years after we graduated. Although we are still close, I'm looking
forward to some one-on-one time with my dear friend.

Over the
years Tammy has indulged my wacky ideas, most notably the time I
convinced her that Karate lessons would be a great way to meet men. We
didn't meet any suitors, but she did break a toe and I suffered a
humiliation when my uniform split in the middle of class revealing my
Donald Duck underpants to the entire dojo. Perhaps the first benefit of
my foot injury presented when we were finally able to quit the lessons
because of my inability to participate.

Scott and Robby are
going to have a "boys day" while I am gone. Normally I would feel a
tinge of guilt about leaving for the entire day. This time I feel
nothing but excitement. It's been a long time since I've done something
just for me. I wonder what trouble we'll find this time!

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Yesterday I attended Robby's parent-teacher conference. During my tenure
in the classroom I venture to guess that I have probably participated
in well over 500 parent meetings, and I was always comfortable and
rarely felt any anxiety. Of course, it was a lot easier being on the
other side of the table!

I was anxious all day as I tried to push
my worries aside. Logically I knew how Robby was doing and wasn't
expecting any surprises. After all, I talk with his teacher daily and I
am fully immersed in the classroom activities. Despite knowing his
strengths and weaknesses, I found myself increasingly nervous as
conference time approached.

Thankfully, there weren't any
surprises about his academic progress. He is doing well in his classwork
and his handwriting has greatly improved. (If you have a youngster who
is struggling with penmanship, I highly recommend the Handwriting
Without Tears program!) After hearing the praise from his teacher about
his behavior and his classwork, I should have left the meeting upbeat.
Instead, I felt an uncomfortable mixture of pride and worry.

I'm
so proud of how hard Robby has been working in school. His scores are
above grade level and he is flourishing. His teacher described him as
sweet, pleasant, accommodating and sensitive. He is the leader of his
social group and doesn't hesitate to stick up for a friend who is being
picked on.

Robby was also described as worried and fretful. He
is a pleaser who becomes upset when he believes that he has caused
disappointment. The drama surrounding his handwriting is a prime example
of this trait. He wanted to be perfect and became frustrated when he
thought he was failing. He tends to keep his feelings bottled up and
shuts down when he perceives disappointment in others.

In this
circumstance, I wish Robby did not so closely mirror me. I tend to
personalize criticism regardless of the constructive nature, and over
analyze everything. It has taken me a long time to recognize this trait,
and I now actively remind myself that the mistake was in the product,
and is not a flaw in my personality. It makes me sad to think that Robby
might develop this internal conflict.

It also turns out that my
little crusader, who is the first to step up for somebody who is being
wronged, doesn't advocate for himself. His teacher noted that he
consistently forfeits his turn as door holder (a coveted position) to
any student who pushes his way in front of him. If a toy is taken from
him during recess, he simply walks away rather than try to get it back. I
don't want him to become a bully, but I certainly want him to find his
voice and defend himself with the same conviction he affords others.

I'm
grateful that his teacher brought these issues to light. Scott and I,
along with Mr. Bill (who let's face it probably has more credibility in
this situation) are going to remind Robby that mistakes are okay. We
are also going to start role playing situations so that he will feel
more comfortable in his role as self-advocate. Hopefully he is young
enough that we can nip these destructive thinking patterns before it
become ingrained.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

When I was Robby's age, one of my greatest fears was being sent to the
principal's office. I knew if I were ever sent to the office, my parents
would not be amused and had no doubt that my little world would come
crashing down on me. The fear of facing the consequences was enough to
keep me well behaved throughout my school career! As a parent, I find it
somewhat amusing that I continue to worry about being called into the
principal's office. The only difference is now I worry about being
called to discuss the behavior of my son.

The other day as I was
walking out of Robby's school, I was stopped by the principal. She asked
if she could speak to me for a moment. My heart jumped and all of my
elementary anxieties resurfaced as I followed her into her office and
shut the door. Although she had a serious tone, the smile on her face
hinted that Robby was not in significant trouble. Taking a deep breath,
I tried to prepare myself for whatever news I was about to receive.

It
turns out that Robby did not misbehave, but the principal wanted to
make me aware of an incident that happened earlier in the week. Of
course Robby never mentioned that anything significant happened in
school, but I shouldn't be surprised because Robby rarely tells me
anything about what he does at school. I digress and perhaps that is a
topic for a future blog.

Apparently a third grader approached
Robby and told him that her dad said that "his mom should have the
decency to cover her fake leg because nobody needs to see that."
Although I've heard my share of rude comments since my amputation, I am
sure I gasped when this statement was relayed. I personally don't care
what this father thinks, but I certainly became worried about my son's
reaction. Children, and their ignorant parents, can be rude and hurtful.

The
principal apparently read my reaction because she immediately calmed my
fears. She was ready to intervene when she heard Robby's retort.
Apparently my little guy, after thinking quietly for several seconds,
looked at this girl and in a matter-of-fact manner said, "I think your
dad should have the decency to wear a hat. After all, he doesn't have
any hair on his head." Described as dumbfounded, the little girl simply
stormed away.

The Principal went on to explain that she felt
Robby handled the situation beautifully. I have to be honest. I am
really proud of his response. He stayed calm and was able to use this
little girl's logic against her. When I asked Robby about what the
little girl said, he looked up from his DS and said, "Momom, I schooled
her good." I couldn't agree more!

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

I am proud of myself for suppressing the urge to spend the day hiding
under my
covers with a bag of Hershey Kisses while catching up on the latest
season of The Biggest Loser. I detest not being able to walk. Whenever I
am restricted from using my prosthesis, regardless of the reason, I
become an anxious and resentful shell of my former self.

Those
who know me well realize that there is more behind my somber mood than
my recent setback. Fifteen years ago today was the final time I was able
to walk unassisted and without pain. In some ways it feels like just
yesterday that I was that eager young woman attending her first
conference. At other times it feels like it was another lifetime and a
different person.

Thinking about the ramifications of that
seemingly benign business trip, I feel a enormous sense of loss. I don't
particularly enjoy feeling negative emotions, so today I'm going to try
to switch my internal dialog. Losing a limb was never part of my
anticipated life path, but sometimes wonderful opportunities spring from
a tragedy.

Had I not attended the conference 15 years ago, I
would probably have remained bi-legged. I would probably be able to
wiggle all ten toes instead of my just five, and I wouldn't even know
what a prosthetic issue meant. I wouldn't have handicapped bars in my
bathroom and a knee scooter ready for when I can't walk. I wouldn't have
to make room in my suitcases for my specialized prosthetics when I
travel, nor would I have to reinforce the knees of my pants to prevent
the holes that always develop between the top of the socket and the
fabric. Life was certainly simpler with both legs!

However, had I
not been injured and moved to Virginia I never would have met Scott.
Had I not met Scott, I wouldn't have Robby. I know that I'm biased, but I
think he is a pretty great kid! I can't imagine a life where I am not
Robby's Momom.

As of today, I have been dealing with leg issues
for 15 years. So much time has passed that it's increasingly difficult
for me to relate to my pre-injury life. I feel sad when I think about
what I lost, but today I am choosing to be grateful for what I have
gained. I may not have my left foot, but I do have a life that I love,
and I am surrounded by people whom I cherish. On my injury anniversary, I
think I'll treat myself to a cupcake.

Monday, March 11, 2013

I spent all day Wednesday playing in the snow with Robby. Thursday was
spent at Chuck E. Cheese keeping track of two kids while trying to
temper my gambling compulsion. When I checked my limb on Thursday night I
noted a little discoloration but nothing of serious concern. I
attributed the color change to mild bruising which happens occasionally
when I am adjusting to a new socket.

Friday morning I awoke to
discover that the sheets were covered in blood. In the middle of the
night my leg began to bleed, became swollen, and had mutated into a
painful purple beast. After quelling my panic, I snapped a picture of my
limb and sent it to my prosthetist. He wrote back within minutes
insisting that I come to the office as soon as I dropped off Robby at
school.

Wearing my leg was painful but not unbearable as I
slowly prepared Robby for school. By the time I reached my prosthetist's
office the pain had intensified, and I couldn't wait to remove the leg.
A pool of blood tinged liquid had accumulated in the bottom of my liner
during the brief time I had worn my leg, solidifying my gut feeling
that I was in for a long and legless weekend!It only took a few seconds for me to receive the diagnosis of Verrucous
Hyperplasia which I have since learned to be a nasty and potentially
dangerous skin condition for amputees. In layman's terms, my limb was
becoming stuck within the socket keeping the distal end from reaching
the bottom. Because of the lack of contact, my limb was swelling within
my socket, cutting off circulation to the lower portion of my leg. It is
as if a tourniquet had been tightly tied around the middle of my limb
cutting off blood flow to the entire lower region.

The black
spots that were starting to develop were indications that the tissue was
in the process of dying. Hearing those words terrified me! I was
strongly urged to avoid wearing my prosthesis or any shrinkers or liners
until the tissue returned to normal. If the situation worsened, I was
to call my doctor and go to the hospital.

While I was not pleased
to be without my leg for the weekend, the fear of causing further and
possibly permanent damage was enough to convince me to follow medical
advice. I may push the envelop at times, but I never mess around with
the health of my residual limb! I called Scott and resigned myself to a
weekend of legless misery.

After keeping my leg off all day
Friday, I began to feel tingling in the bottom of my limb early Saturday
morning. Although the constant pins and needles became grating, they
also served as a reminder of circulation being restored. Over the
weekend the deep purple slowly started to lighten and the red areas
became less inflamed and less sensitive. I am optimistic that the issue
was caught early, thwarting permanent damage.

While I'm thankful that I am recovering, I can't help but still feel both frustrated and angry. I had been so active, feeling no pain and enjoying life.
In an instant I was contending with a potentially serious limb issue and
my activities were curtailed. Welcome to the reality of life as an
amputee. I can be fine one day only to be sidelined by a prosthetic or
limb issue the next! I realize that it is not productive, but I must point out the obvious: this really isn't fair!